


Collateral Damage

by Sandylee007



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandylee007/pseuds/Sandylee007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PREVIOUSLY POSTED BY ME ON FF.net.     Who would've thought that a simple trip to a café could go so wrong? When Clint gets shot protecting Natasha she comes closer to losing him than ever before. Will help get there before it's too late?            ONESHOT</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Damage

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [SOS Hawkeye aka 1001 to Almost Kill Clint Barton](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/185245) by Sandylee007. 



> So, I've decided to test the waters on this site. (grins) I'm excited, and maybe a little nervous.  
> In case you find this familiar... This has previously been posted on Fanfiction.net, under a 'SOS Hawkeye' -collection. It crossed my mind that maybe some readers on this site would also enjoy a bit of Clint/Natasha friendship...?  
> WARNINGS: TWO VERY MILD MENTIONS OF CLINTXLAURA (just mentions, since she has absolutely no appearance on this story), a bit of violence and blood, a hint of language... Ya know, that's actually a really short list for my story...!  
> DISCLAIMER: I OWN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Checking my bank-account is knowing. If only I'd have enough money to create a movie with Renner starring it...!  
> Awkay, because stalling's just rude... Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the story.

It was supposed to be a perfectly normal, calm day. Their team had just finished a yet another mission the day before and they were all beyond exhausted. Fairly quickly, however, Clint noticed that Natasha wasn't able to relax at all. He understood why.

Their primary enemy was a young woman who'd been brainwashed since she was a little girl. Trained to become the perfect soldier, the perfect weapon. It sounded uncomfortably familiar even to Clint. And Natasha was the unfortunate one forced to put a bullet between the girl's eyes.

After watching Natasha isolating herself the entire evening following the obligatory de-briefing and listening to her pacing around her room through the night Clint decided that something had to be done. He waited until Thor had headed to Asgard, Steve had gone training and their science twins had been absorbed by a yet another project until knocking on her door.

"Steve, I already told you. I don't want any breakfast." That… was actually stunningly calm and civil. Perhaps Clint wouldn't need a full body armor for this one.

"Who said anything about breakfast?" he quipped.

About twenty seconds of utter silence passed by. Then, so suddenly that he had hard time disguising his surprise, the door opened. Natasha appeared suspicious, tired and entirely too wired all at once. Her eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. You want to talk?"

Clint shook his head. "Nah." Talking would come later. But he wasn't insane enough to try it before softening her up first. "I was just wondering if I could coax you to a café."

Natasha looked at him like he'd just gained a second head. There was a hint of eagerness hiding in her eyes, though. "A café?"

"Yeah. Of course. I know that you'd never say 'no' to lemon muffins." Then, as an afterthought, Clint went on. "Don't worry, I'll never tell Stark. Who knows how he'd use that information."

Well, how about that. A tiny bit of twinkle could be seen in Natasha's eyes. She closed the door. Less than a minute later she emerged, fully dressed and ready to go.

 

X

 

Due to the early hour of the morning the café was comfortably calm and quiet. It seemed to ease some of Natasha's tension. Lemon muffins helped. She ended up consuming her own and half of Clint's. He didn't mind. He'd never had much of a sweet tooth, anyway. As long as she didn't touch his coffee they were good.

To Clint's massive surprise Natasha was actually the one who opened the conversation. "That girl… I could've been in her shoes."

Clint mused for a few moments, trying to come up with a proper response. In the end he shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. "No, I don't think so." Even though that girl uttered almost the exact same words the Widow did when they first met, a lifetime and a half ago.

Natasha looked at him. One of her eyebrows bounced up. "Why would you think so?"¨

"Because you have heart." Clint gritted his teeth, focusing on the dark liquid in his mug. His chest tightened, just a little bit, while unwanted memories came flooding in. "And unlike some think it's a good thing."

It looked like Natasha wanted to say something more. Clint never got the chance to hear what it might've been. Because all of a sudden the massive argument two men had been having at the other side of the café escalated violently. A table was flipped over. And then one of the idiots pulled out a gun. Clint's eyes widened.

Crap…!

Everything seemed to happen in a slowed motion. Upon noticing the very real threat the barista started screaming. Which, naturally, caught the attention of the other clients. The very first bullet was sent flying, bringing down the other half of the argument. That was when a man from a nearby table decided to play the hero. With an incomprehensible shout the hero of the day jumped up and tried to tackle the shooter. Which, as Clint knew with bleak certainty, wouldn't end well. The gun kept swaying dangerously, at some point aimed at pretty much everyone present. With screams the other clients squatted down, trying to find cover.

Throughout the sudden horrible situation Clint hadn't remained idle. He was way too far away to confront the shooter and he wasn't armed. As it was he had one priority above all else inside those four walls.

Natasha shouted something when he jumped up, then pushed her down as gently as he could. He placed himself between her and the gun without even noticing it. They fell towards the floor, only his quick arm keeping him from crash-landing fully on top of her. They both gasped on the way down just as the echo of the second gunshot died out.

"I got him, I got him!" That must've been the guy who decided to attack the fiend. "Someone call the cops!"

"They're already on their way", a shaky voice replied.

Clint breathed in deep, then out, then repeated the routine. His eyes must've been at least a little wide and wild upon meeting Natasha's. "You okay?"

Natasha nodded although she didn't seem fully certain. "Yeah." She frowned and inspected him with her gaze. Did he seem more dazed than he felt? "You?"

"Fine." Slowly, testing his body, he began to push himself up. "Was there a second gunshot? Who…?" He trailed off when a massive dizzy spell washed through him.

Alarm flashed sharply in Natasha's eyes. Impressively quickly she was sitting, supporting what had to be most of his full body weight. He wondered if she even noticed how her hand shook as she brought it behind his back, stroking uncharacteristically gently. It was impossible to tell which one of them tensed up further when her fingers came back coated in blood.

Clint blinked slowly. His stomach dropped although he wasn't sure if he managed to fully grasp the situation. "Great…"

Before he realized what was going on Natasha had eased him down, so that he lay on his side. With the perfect view to where the first guy jumping in had been joined by two more to hold the shooter down. A girl who was still hiding behind a corner table was filming the entire thing with her cell phone. Most of the clients were staring at the gunman with dazed eyes. A few of them were crying. A couple of people seemed to have noticed him. They didn't dare to approach, though, only stared at him with wide-eyed shock. Now, with the action having died down, everything was strangely muffled and slow. Or was it just him?

"… int! CLINT!" It sounded like Natasha had been trying to get his attention for a while. He didn't think he'd ever heard that much emotion in her voice. "Stay with me, goddamnit! Is there an exit wound?"

A logical enough question. Something that had to be inspected. Stiffly and awkwardly Clint moved his head, just enough to see his own chest and stomach area. Even with the rapidly escalating dizziness he was able to detect that there was no red. No moisture. The bullet was still contained inside him. Good. He'd been right in front of Natasha. If… "'s still there", he murmured. His eyelids were starting to droop while exhaustion began to set in. Natasha had his back. He could sleep a bit now, right?

It didn't occur to him that there was no sleeping with a bullet wound until Natasha pressed hard against his back, sending such a shockwave that took his breath away. "Clint, no going quiet on me now!"

Clint groaned and closed his eyes. Why was she torturing him like this? "'n't wanna talk."

"You don't have to." Her other hand, trembling miserably, moved to his neck. Monitoring his pulse. That bad, huh? "That stupid song you keep singing to Lila and Cooper over the phone… What's it called?"

Clint almost felt like smiling. Trust Natasha to ask something so random…! "'weren't suppose' to hear…"

"Well, I did. Gotta tell you, it doesn't exactly suit the tough and mighty Hawkeye." Was she whispering? Because she sounded strangely quiet. "Start singing, Barton." It was always surnames when she was delivering orders. "I want to hear that idiotic lullaby."

Well, that was unexpected. Not that Clint would've been able to question and wonder much at the moment. In the end his body began to function before his head could quite catch up. He began to sing softly, even if it was barely even humming with how tired he was.

Sorry, kids, daddy's exhausted…

Memories kept spinning around his head. Eventually the mental slideshow stopped to Lila's grinning face. A tiny smile appeared to Clint's face. He didn't know that he'd stopped singing. Or that he'd almost stopped breathing, too.

 

X

 

Unlike most people probably assumed Natasha was a human being and very much capable of experiencing fear. Even if it happened very, very rarely. And there, on the floor of a stupid café, she was absolutely terrified. Because despite her best attempts Clint kept bleeding and bleeding, the red pooling all over her hands, his shirt and on the floor. Then he went quiet, even stopped trembling entirely.

"Clint?" No reaction, not even a twitch. He should've known better than to not react to her voice. "CLINT!"

His breaths didn't sound or seem right. Under her desperately squeezing fingertips his pulse had become light and thready, such that she barely felt. The only constant was the bleeding. How much more blood could he lose before…?

Natasha's eyes were full of helpless fury while they swept through the people at the café. At least five of them were staring at them. No one was moving.

"What the hell are you doing, just staring!" she snarled. It didn't cross her mind that her tone might startle them further. "Somebody help me!" So what if she was begging? Clint was bleeding out in her arms! She wasn't going to…!

Still no one moved. It was like they weren't even a part of the same world. And Clint kept losing whatever blood he still had left. Feeling cold and sick to her stomach Natasha looked at his face. The smile on his colorless lips would haunt her until her dying day.

"Ma'am?" It took far too long until Natasha realized that there was a very much real voice talking to her. She lifted her head to meet a kind yet stern face. The paramedic's uniform struck her like a bolt of lightning. "It's alright, we're only here to help your friend. But to do that I need you to step aside. Alright?"

Natasha didn't want to let go of Clint. Didn't want to stop feeling his pulse because it was the only thing that told her he was still alive, still fighting. But she also realized that she had fairly little choice over the matter. So she budged, as little as possible, and watched with sharp, careful eyes how the woman and her male partner began to work.

"What's his name?"

Natasha didn't realize until a few seconds later that the question was directed at her. "Clint Barton." Her voice was remarkably steady. Or maybe she only imagined that it was.

"Any known allergies?"

"No."

"Alright." Two pairs of quick, experted hands worked on stabilizing Clint. Still even more red kept sneaking out. "How long has he been unresponsive?"

"Three minutes and forty-two seconds", Natasha announced without a beat of hesitation. Of course she'd been keeping track. Each second had felt endless.

The paramedic gave her a smile and a nod. "Thank you." The woman then focused fully on Clint once more. "Clint? Can you hear me?" There was no response whatsoever. The stranger rattled some medical jargon that sounded like gibberish to Natasha to her colleague. They worked just a little faster. Clint… How was it possible that he looked even worse than before?

After a couple of eternities whatever those two had been doing seemed to pay off. The bleeding stopped, or at least paused. Which seemed to be a cue for the pair to set wheels into motion. Before Natasha had the time to see it coming they were rushing onwards, taking Clint away from her. She reacted instantly.

"I'm coming along", she announced with every bit of authority she could muster. "Trust me, if he starts waking up incoherent you'll want me around." This tiny, infuriating part of her brain nagged that it was far from likely that he'd wake up anytime soon. She chose to ignore it. Refused to let the fear consume her.

Apparently getting the patient to a hospital as fast as possible was a bigger priority than fighting with her. With clearly visible hesitation she was allowed to the ambulance. By the time they got there something was happening to Clint's breathing. Although it was the last thing she wanted to see Natasha stared as they intubated him. When did they hook him on an I.V.?

Natasha tensed up and nearly lashed out when something was draped gently around her tense shoulders. Her head snapped up and she found the female medic's sympathy filled eyes. "It's for the shock."

Natasha wanted to argue that she wasn't in a shock. In the end she decided not to waste breath on that. She noticed only absently how the male medic left the back of the ambulance to take over the driver's seat. Very soon they were speeding on, sirens blaring. Not soon enough in Natasha's opinion.

When she could be sure that the remaining paramedic was focused on their patient Natasha took Clint's hand. She squeezed it hard, tightening her hold still to match the brutal fact that there was no tension in his fingers. When she held on to him as though for dear life a single steel hard thought kept echoing in her head, over and over again.

Don't you dare… Don't you dare… Don't you dare…

If he'd die after taking a bullet while protecting her she'd find a way to kill him again herself.

 

X

 

They stole Clint away from her as soon as they reached the hospital. Natasha must've stood there for ages, staring at the direction towards which he was taken, until a clearly busy but polite nurse escorted her to the waiting room. Wait she did, mainly because it was all she could do. She didn't even notice that the shock blanket was still wrapped around her.

Natasha didn't know how long she'd been there all alone until a familiar voice spoke. "… tasha?" For a moment she was able to trick herself into imagining that it was Clint. Instead she found Bruce Banner looking at her with eyes that seemed incredibly old. "Are you alright?"

Natasha would've wanted to snap something harsh but the look on his face made her decide against it. Instead she merely shook her head. Soon a frown appeared to her forehead. "How did you know to come here?"

The growing worry in Bruce's eyes alone was very alarming. "Nat, you… texted me. Don't you remember?"

Wasn't it obvious that she didn't? By some miracle Natasha was able to hold her tongue. She wrapped her arms and the blanket a little more tightly around herself, casting a longing glance towards the room's door. Not a trace of Clint's doctor.

Bruce hesitated for a long moment. Then, surprising them both a little, the scientist moved closer and took the chair next to hers. For some reason she didn't mind. "Any news?"

Natasha shook her head. Unable to come up with anything better to do with he hands she started biting her fingernails. It was a nervous habit that she'd imagined to be a thing from her childhood. "Not yet." Where was that doctor? How long could the surgery take? She had to get something else to focus on. "What about Steve and Tony?"

"They'll be here soon." They both glanced towards the door when there were steps, only to see a nurse passing by. "At first Steve's going to bail Tony out."

Natasha fixed a look of disbelief towards her friend.

"The guy who jumped the shooter was already on the news. Bragging, making a hero of himself." Bruce sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tony got his hands on him."

Natasha nodded. "Good." She was just disappointed that she didn't get to that idiot first.

They sat there for at least an hour more, not holding hands but still drawing comfort from one another. Until finally they saw a doctor walking directly towards them. Whatever little warmth there'd been in Natasha disappeared in a flash.

The look on the woman's face… The posture… The dropped shoulders…

Natasha lost her breath entirely. Felt like this time she was the one who'd been struck by a bullet. Somehow she managed to maintain most of her composure but there was nothing she could do to help the way her heart was racing desperately. Bruce also stiffened beside her and in a more coherent state of mind she might've worried that the Big Guy would be unleashed.

This had to be some kind of a sick joke, right? A mistake. It was just two friends stopping by at a stupid café. Ridiculously bad luck. Clint had only been trying to keep her safe. There was just no way that Clint could be…

She had not just lost him this way after everything they'd…!

Like in some sort of a strange fog Natasha saw a wide eyed nurse, still in scrubs, running towards the doctor. They exchanged a few words before they both started to dash right back to where they'd come from. Like someone's life depended on it.

It took a mighty while before Bruce could speak. "What… just happened?" He sounded as startled as he looked.

If Natasha had even single religious cell left in her body she would've claimed that someone had just answered her. She gasped, only then realizing that she'd been holding her breath for a long time. "Clint happened."

 

X

 

It took another five hours before the doctor finally came back. By then Tony and Steve had already joined them. Apparently Clint was still hanging in there. Barely. Even the doctor couldn't predict what'd happen next. All they could do was wait.

 

X

 

The first thing Clint became aware of was the infuriating beeping. He groaned and tried to shift but couldn't quite make himself move. Where was his alarm clock?

Hold on a minute… This didn't sound like his alarm clock… What…?

"Stop wiggling. You'll tear your stitches." Now that voice was familiar, although he couldn't imagine what was going on. "Feel free to open your eyes, though. You've been sleeping for ages and it's getting boring."

Pushing all his strength to the simple task Clint indeed managed to crack his eyes halfway open. At first the world around him kept swimming in and out of focus. Then, finally, he was able to actually see Natasha's face. She had dark circles around her eyes and she seemed pale put otherwise she appeared unharmed. It gave him a great deal of comfort. But what…?

That was when he remembered the gunshot.

He frowned and fought himself to an awkward, half sitting position. He tried to remain lucid and awake although it was getting harder by each second. "… okay?"

"No." Her eyes flashed dangerously yet at the same time they managed to appear incredibly vulnerable. "You nearly died on us. Well, technically you did die. We'll have some strong words about that later. Laura wasn't exactly impressed, either. Nor were the boys. They've had four and a half days to come up with ways how to either keep you confined or in a full body armor twenty-four hours a day. They've gotten pretty creative."

Clint smiled despite the fact that slowly yet surely he was starting to feel his injury. "Creative, huh?" He was too groggy to feel the dread he should've.

Natasha smirked. "Oh yes." She then took a plastic mug and helped a straw to his mouth. "Slow sips, yeah? I don't want you to damage yourself any further."

Clint sipped gratefully, savoring the cool water in his mouth. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. "Thanks", he sighed, the simple action of swallowing draining all his energy.

Natasha shook her head. She helped him lay down almost carefully. "After your stunt, don't you dare thank me."

Clint felt ready to slip right back under. But there was something that bothered him immensely. "Nat?" He didn't quite have the energy to open his eyes. When did he close them? "Before the shooting… We were talking…"

"Yeah, we were", Natasha interrupted him softly. He must've been even more tired and doped up than he'd imagined because he could've sworn that he felt her running her fingers through his hair. "Now shush. You need sleep. It's my turn to have your back."

Yeah, he was definitely tired beyond his wits. Because that couldn't possibly be Natasha Romanoff, singing quietly and softly. Wasn't that the same song he always…?

Clint didn't care if it was real or not. He breathed in deep, blatantly ignoring the fact that it hurt like hell, and relaxed. She was safe and he wasn't alone. And that was more than enough.

 

X

 

Clint was sleeping heavily and Natasha was preoccupied. That was why they couldn't possibly notice the person peering into the room, a massive hawk-shaped plushie in his arms. The arrival froze to the doorway.

Tony Stark quite honestly couldn't believe his eyes. Or ears. Surely that wasn't the Natasha he knew, stroking Clint's hair? Humming a lullaby? But it was.

For a moment Tony wondered if this was worth risking his very life. Then, quite rapidly, he decided that if he'd get evidence of this he could die a happy man. So, with a grin of amusement and immense relief on his face, he took his cell phone and started filming.

There'd be days when he'd want to remember this.

 

X

 

End of oneshot.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Clint! But at least he'll have friends and family to help him recover. (smiles)  
> Soooo... Was that any good? At all? PLEASE, do leave a note before you go! Maybe a kudos...?  
> In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you again?  
> Take care!


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